


the queen of infinite space

by Falcine



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, aka when Alina and the Darkling are rulers of countries at war, battlefield romance, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcine/pseuds/Falcine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She would not be his Tsarina. She would be her own Queen. </p>
<p>Where else do Alina and the Darkling meet again but on the battlefield?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the queen of infinite space

The chasm between them is a dangerous thing, Alina thinks. 

This is nothing like the Shadowfold. Alina could master the darkness, could shine her light from anywhere within it, but this? This mockery of a battlefield, this false war between them—this is not a thing she knows how to defeat. 

Alina likes to think she is a patient person. You cannot live for so long without being a patient person. But it frustrates her nonetheless, how simultaneously simple and impossible it is for her to cross this. 

“Must we do this all over again?” he calls to her from across the battlefield, soldiers at his back. She wonders if they follow him willingly and hides her wince when her thoughts immediately turn to her Sun Soldiers. They would follow her to their deaths. 

Alina hides her weakness from him. Out here, she must. “I will not give you my country, Aleksander,” she says. “I’ll kill you myself,” she says. 

The Darkling— _ Aleksander, Tsar, killer _ —smiles. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ He grabbed her by the hand, thin fingers tight around her wrist.  _

_ Alina turned, heart pounding in her chest. “Let go of me.”  _

_ “Where are you going?”  _

_ The rage in her heart burned. She refused to let it die, refused to pull herself to him and give him. There was nothing gentle about the way he grabs her, possessive and fierce. Alina told herself to never believe his fingers are anything other than a shackle ever again. “I’m leaving you,” she said firmly. _

_ With a single fluid movement, she ripped her wrist away from him and took a step back.  _

_ He had the nerve to laugh. “You would be a Tsaritsa,” he said mockingly, tucking his hands almost casually in the folds of his  _ kefka  _ like he was making a show of it. _

_ Alina stood with her back straight, tilting her chin up. She spread her hands, letting the light spill in over her face. _

_ “I will be a Queen.”  _

 

* * *

 

“You will return what is mine,” he says, that damned smile still playing at his lips. 

“You think everything in this world is yours,” she bites back, her hand balling into fists in her sleeves. 

 

* * *

 

_ “You will regret this,” he said, softly, almost calmly, but Alina could see the tension in his neck. She wondered if perhaps this was why he tucked his hands away.  _ You’re the one with regrets,  _ she thought, but swallowed the words along with the lump in her throat.  _

_ From here, the shadows loomed, as if they were his shroud and crown. He was a perfect visage of terrible beauty and sadness, but Alina knew that his face had always been a lie.  _

_ Her hands were shaking, but the light soothed her, drove his darkness further away. “Perhaps,” she conceded, then allowed herself a smile, “but we both know that you’ll regret it more.”  _

 

* * *

 

In an instant, he is standing before her. The chasm of war lies before them, ugly and barren, unchanged by how close he is. 

Her guards shift behind her. Alina holds up a hand and keeps the Darkling’s fierce stare. 

He grabs her by the arm again. 

Alina turns her gaze down to his pale knuckled grip, then reaches out with her other hand to grip the back of his neck. 

“Am I wrong?” he asks.

From here, the Darkling looks like a very small man, crown gone,  _ kefka  _ bare. Alina can feel the power thrumming in his skin, can feel the encroaching darkness like ink spilled in water. She wonders what they would be, if he were normal. 

She is a Queen, the Sun Summoner, has a duty to her people.

She leans in and crushes her lips to his, crossing the chasm of war and duty and blood like it was nothing. She feels his smile, only kisses him harder, bites at his lips and hopes she draws blood. 

When they pull apart, she watches him for a long time, sweeping her gaze over the sharp planes of his face. 

“Am I?” he asks again, almost gently. 

Then, she raises her hand in the Cut and grins in satisfaction when he is forced back, the ground before them cleaved. 

Just like that. The chasm opens again.

“Always,” she whispers, knows he can hear, and turns back to her men.


End file.
